old cowboys never die
Posted: Fri Mar 19, 2010 2:55 am
but the young ones do
I'm not even sure if this is the right place to put it, but it's 2:36a.m. at this very moment. I'm very high up right on the continental divide in a small southwest Montana town you've never heard of, which is being blanketed by a snowstorm. I live with my brother, who's in the other end of the place snoring his *** off peacefully. I, however, couldn't sleep, and with nobody to talk to, I got on the computer and went to this website to get some relief, and maybe I won't even submit this message. I've to feed 800 head starting at 5:00a.m. so I don't think I'll be getting any sleep.
My best friend of 15 years is now no longer with me. In an attempt to hitch-hike 180 something miles to Missoula yesterday to go see some friends, he was struck by a semi, and needless to say, didn't make it. This is the exact same way my other good friend died last year (except he was hit in Seattle trying to hitch) and now I'm the only in my triad left alive. I have my brother, but those of you from cow towns know things run deep and separate. My parents are gone, my friends are gone. Now I know why those old cowboys that show up at the tavern come in alone and never talk, they just sit there and stare at their drink, it's 'cause their friends are all gone, and they were the only ones tough enough to still be around.
They can barely get out of bed from old rodeo wounds, their wives left them long ago, they live in little shacks and trailers, and're haunted by memories they should have died with before they could get to them.
I'm not sure if I want that.
But here's the last picture I had with him (1985-2010)...
he's on the right, I'm on the left. We were drinking vodka strictly for the reason that it makes us both crazy. He was the biggest, toughest, most steel-spined bull-rider with the softest heart that it took an entire semi to kill him.
I don't want sympathy, I just needed to say this, or type this, somewhere. Right now he's finally finding out what it's like to ride a drop of rain.
peace for today
I'm not even sure if this is the right place to put it, but it's 2:36a.m. at this very moment. I'm very high up right on the continental divide in a small southwest Montana town you've never heard of, which is being blanketed by a snowstorm. I live with my brother, who's in the other end of the place snoring his *** off peacefully. I, however, couldn't sleep, and with nobody to talk to, I got on the computer and went to this website to get some relief, and maybe I won't even submit this message. I've to feed 800 head starting at 5:00a.m. so I don't think I'll be getting any sleep.
My best friend of 15 years is now no longer with me. In an attempt to hitch-hike 180 something miles to Missoula yesterday to go see some friends, he was struck by a semi, and needless to say, didn't make it. This is the exact same way my other good friend died last year (except he was hit in Seattle trying to hitch) and now I'm the only in my triad left alive. I have my brother, but those of you from cow towns know things run deep and separate. My parents are gone, my friends are gone. Now I know why those old cowboys that show up at the tavern come in alone and never talk, they just sit there and stare at their drink, it's 'cause their friends are all gone, and they were the only ones tough enough to still be around.
They can barely get out of bed from old rodeo wounds, their wives left them long ago, they live in little shacks and trailers, and're haunted by memories they should have died with before they could get to them.
I'm not sure if I want that.
But here's the last picture I had with him (1985-2010)...
he's on the right, I'm on the left. We were drinking vodka strictly for the reason that it makes us both crazy. He was the biggest, toughest, most steel-spined bull-rider with the softest heart that it took an entire semi to kill him.
I don't want sympathy, I just needed to say this, or type this, somewhere. Right now he's finally finding out what it's like to ride a drop of rain.
peace for today
I'm in "Spud land" and was raised in northern Wyo.